


No Control (Chris Evans x Reader)

by Steggy



Series: Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Chris is the bottom lol, F/M, Quiet Sex, Riding, Smut, Who let me write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6802012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steggy/pseuds/Steggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris couldn't handle himself around you. He didn't care either. Especially not when he got you into his bedroom, even if his parents are still in the house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Control (Chris Evans x Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> bother me on twitter @alyjevans or on tumblr @spangledcap & @poorcap

“ _ **If my parents knew what I was doing, they’d kill me,**_ “ Chris mumbles hotly against your lips, cool hands exploring the smooth skin beneath your shirt, daring to skim your curves. Your own fingers have skillfully removed his shirt and have ventured to trace the strong lines of his abs, of his sides, his chest, every perfectly sculpted edge, but when he says that, you can’t help it. 

You laugh into his mouth, “Chris, you’re thirty-four years old.”

He gives a small pout, silently complaining for ruining the moment, and then proceeds to nip at your

bottom lip. “And if my mother found out that, after her cooking us a lovely meal and inviting us to spend the night, I was about to fuck my gorgeous girlfriend in my childhood room, she’d  _ kill _ me.”

You’ve about had enough of this. Not only do you roll your eyes, but you utilize those months of Chris dragging you to the gym and roll Chris over so you straddle his waist. His eyes go wide, but he’s not about to protest at the sight of your glorious silhouette hovering above him. His hands fall to your hips, groaning quietly as you readjust yourself on him. You can’t help the sly smirk that takes over your lips.

“Dammit, [Y/N],” He huffs, giving your hips a squeeze. Then his hands travel. Up, over your sides, moving across your front, skimming the curves of your breasts. “If I had known you were going to do that, I would’ve talked about my parents sooner.”

“Shut up.” Chris doesn’t complain, and the shit-eating grin that spreads across his face says enough. His hand comes to cup your jaw, bringing your lips down onto his eager, hungry ones, and you melt back into him, pressing your palms to his bare chest. 

He’s drinking you in, breathing you in, intoxicated, even more so than the few beers left on his breath. His hand leaves your jaw, sliding down your back, meeting his other hand, and together, they land on your ass, squeezing, pressing, moving his hips to match the movement. His bulge rubs against you, and a small moan tumbles past your lips just as your tongue slides across his bottom lip. Chris smirks, squeezing, pressing, moving again before he takes it a step further, erasing the barrier of clothes and slipping his hands down your pants, cupping your ass again. His fingers trace over the goosebumps, squeeze, feel the new ones. 

Every touch leaves you on fire. Your breathing is erratic, heart ready to burst right out of your chest. Getting impatient, you break from his lips, sit up, and tear off your own shirt, leaving you bare aside from your shorts. But before Chris can even make some other smart comment, you crush your lips back to his, grinding your hips into his. And you get those noises out of him you’ve been waiting for all night.

One by one, both of your clothes fall away. As Chris adjusts himself, you bend down to him again, sucking at the flesh of his neck, and murmur, “Do we have to be quiet?”

One hand holding himself, he uses his free one to tangle his fingers in your hair and press a chaste kiss to your ear. “ _ **You were always the quiet one.**_ No promises for me.”

You laugh breathlessly, holding his neck gently, and stare down into those mesmerizing blues. “Can’t control yourself, Evans?”

His eyes burn into yours, and together, you mold into one as he slips into you, warranting a moan from both of you, those his is notably louder. “Not with you around.”

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, as you two enjoy your coffee on the porch, Mr. Evans joins you, newspaper in hand. He pats Chris on the shoulder with it, breaking up a peaceful moment of silence between you and your boyfriend.

“So, Chris, I think the house might have a leak. The pipes were… groaning pretty loud last night.”

Your cheeks turn to fire, and you avoid his father’s gaze, looking down at your coffee as you nonchalantly take a sip.

Chris coughs, nodding, “Yeah, yeah, right. The pipes.” But the grin on his father’s face does not read as the house having a leak. Chris sneaks an apologetic glance over at you, nervously smiling before scrambling out of the porch chair. “I’ll go check it out for ya, Dad.” 

As Chris disappears into the house, Chris’s father turns to you, chuckling and shaking his head. “Marry him, will you?”

Still blushing into your coffee, you smile, murmuring as you take another sip. “Working on it.” 


End file.
